


Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

by BDGumball



Category: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Genre: Circus, Evil, F/M, Gen, Horror, Optional Romance, Optional Smut, i dunno, swtwc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BDGumball/pseuds/BDGumball
Summary: Desdemona is not like other girls. But, when a circus comes into town harboring what SEEMS like a night of fun, can she really just stay home? This thrilling fan fiction promises mystery and excitement to everyone alike; wether you've Something Wicked This Way Comes, seen the play, seen the movie, or are just looking for a great story! Come one! Come all, to the freak show!





	1. Thumb Pricks

It has happened before, and will again. Yes, dear reader, the story you pursued is a repeating one. It is not a classic coming of age, or romance. No, this story is anything but. This story is one that humankind struggles to even recognize. Although, every once in a while, some strange soul does.   
Perhaps this story is of one of those people; an 18 year old girl.   
Perhaps it began in October, in a small home outside of a quaint farming town.   
That sounds quite right.   
The girl, my, was she strange. Medication bottles riddled her bedside table, solemnly chanting of her differences, her affliction, her troubles. The same troubles, in fact, that caused her to have to be schooled by her own mother. She could not bare the pressures of a classic high school.   
Desdemona is the name of the woman.   
Nicknamed Des to her small inner circle that consisted of her mother and father, and turtle named Malcom.   
Turtles are the only tolerable animals. Unable to scratch, move swiftly, or hurt in any way. The only threat they pose is of salmonella carried on their shells, a very controllable threat. It was Des’ therapist suggested she be given the responsibility to raise it. Her mother readily embraced this idea, however much it terrified Des. Her mom refused to go out to get it food or the necessary materials, so it was left to Malcom's single caretaker.   
Daytime was much too nerve-racking, so Des learned to take trips to the store just before they closed. In, and out; as quick as possible.   
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”  
“Yes, mom. I’ll be okay.”  
“...Alright, if you're sure.”   
The little black car zipped away to pick up other inanimate passengers as Des walked towards the doors. Left foot, right foot. So far, we’re doing great. Of course, we’re just walking towards the door, but its going well. Small victories, right?  
Self-moving glass doors swished open, a whole realm of potential hell greeting the girl. Despite the warnings emanating from her midsection, Desdemona put left foot in front of right. Filters and food, filters and food, in and out, filters and food. Des traced the path trodden by her mother while she crept behind the times before.   
Food, 1 o’clock sharp, check. Her steady hand reached out and grasped the cylinder of pellets. She ignored the thought that a deadly spider could have escaped its enclosure and be perched on the side of the container, ready to bite and kill her.   
Filters, same aisle, other side, check.   
Des robotically turned and ignored a similar thought of a snake hanging on the bottom of the shelf as she grabbed tank filters.   
Feeder fish were around the corner, she’d have to ask someone. Having rehearsed the sentence multiple times in her head, she requested a bag of rosy reds from the man in uniform leaning against the wall.   
“Can you get me some rosie reds?”  
“Yeah sure.” he flippantly answered.   
The man went about as usual, although with an offhand attitude towards his job. As soon as the girl recieved her fish, she thanked the man, who responded with a short “Whatever.”   
Time to check out. This is it, this is the defining moment. Left feet slipped in front of rights as Des made her way slowly to the counter, rehearsing and practicing the conversation over in her head.   
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” asked the cashier, bright and smiley. Oh, God she was so smiley. That means she hates Des.   
“Yeah.” Desdemona strained to say more, but her thoughts clamped her vocal chords still. Why would the cashier want to tell a random person that she doesn't like about her plans for the day?  
“Have you been to the circus in town?” This surprised the girl immensely. This was not in the script. Circus? What?  
“I-uh...what?” She asked   
“Yeah! The circus! I’m headed there after my shift with my friends to have a look around.” Des translated this to mean that the cashier was belittling her for not knowing the current happenings and scrutinizing her lack of friends. No, that’s wrong. She was merely trying to make conversation, right? Maybe this person was actually deliberating a plan in her head of how to follow Des home with a knife and-  
“Alright, you’re good to go!”   
The raging white water of thoughts was hated suddenly by the chirp of the lovely young woman. The customer scrambled to draw a piece of paper out of her pocket and shove it in the direction of the expectant hand. Des would apologize if only she knew how. She didn’t mean to be this unsatisfactory.   
“2.27 is your change. Have a great day!”  
A mere “You, too.” was muttered before the items were snatched and flew out the door to a waiting black car.   
“How did it go, sweetheart?” Finally, a familiar and comfortable voice graced Des’ ears. SHe paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. Considering her actions, the girl climbed in the passenger seat.   
“Great,” she responded, “it went great.”


	2. Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A usual lonley life is suddenly disturbed by a change of thought. A good idea sprouts from a worried head, but how good is it, exactly?

Two, big, dark brown eyes gazed through clear water and impaled the thick shell of the reptile within.  
Deep thought was held within the expressive facial features of the girl. Consideration of the night to come and the dangers it may or may not possess. The deep recesses of her mind couldn’t help but assume the worst.  
She’d most likely sit at home all night again, just like this, watching Malcolm glide around on his wet belly, occasionally slurping up air from the surface and receding back down into the depths of his tank.  
That is, after all, how most of her existence was spent.  
Alone.  
Fuck this.  
Des leapt up and spun around until her eyes connected with her emergency preparedness bag. This was as close to an emergency as her little life in the middle of illinois would have.  
In a fell swoop, she fled out of her room and downstairs, bag in hand.  
“I’m going out.”  
At this, her parents sat dumb founded in their respective chairs, television blaring about some foreign evil on an ancient terrestrial world. Before they could question anything, she was gone. Out the door and down the street, headed towards the fairgrounds.  
For some strange reason, Des felt suddenly empowered; like she could win any fight, slay any beast and scale any mountain. Her feet fell surely against the pavement of the sidewalk. The passing gazes of suspicious neighbors bounced off of her as if her own skin was like that of Malcom’s tough shell.  
The calliope jeered as she approached the bright lights of the circus.  
This was a great idea.  
Des strode closer and closer until she meshed with the tight crowd.  
This was a bad idea.  
This was a very bad idea.  
The crowd crashed like the ocean it was, leaping back and forth. Yells and screams wailed out as parents strained to find their children who were probably wonderstruck with the bright lights and ornate decor. Elbows and hands flew around, seemingly having a toast among themselves.  
“Step right up! Witness the world famous wild cat exhibit!” the ringmaster called, hushing all of the men, women and children as he made huge, grandiose gestures with his arms. Behind him sat a rather bored looking cougar, a lion and a tiger.  
Des could feel her heart beating out of her chest. There were way too many people here.  
What if something happened? What if a meteorite struck down in this exact spot? What if the lion suddenly decided the circus wasn’t for him? What if acid rained down from the sky and-  
“Ma’am?”  
Someone was talking to her.  
She looked up slowly to see none other than the ringmaster himself reaching down to take her hand.  
A wrist rose up, offering dainty fingers to the big, strong palm. Des hoisted herself up and the crowd cheered and clapped. A wide, cat like smile spread over the clean-shaven face of the performing man.  
“Our brave volunteer will now calm the ferocious beasts, with only the dust of the sand witch” he yelled, stepping back and waving his hand at the three cats that yowled and snarled as they paced up in tandem.  
What has she done?  
Her hand began to shake, sweat dripping down her palms.  
What has she done?  
The cougar headed the trio, a fire in its eyes.  
Des could only watch as they reached her figure, sniffed her twice, and bared their teeth once more.  
What has she done?  
Starting with the cougar, the three wild beasts laid quietly down at her feet.  
The crowd gasped as their tails twitched.  
Finally, sudden applause and cheers erupted, soaring through the air.  
It felt as though Des was flying. It was as if the crowds excitement sustained her in mid air.  
She stayed like that for a long time, staring at the cats and reveling in her achievement. She stayed even after the crowd had dissolved into minnows swimming through the ocean.  
The ringmaster stepped up. In her panic, Desdemona had failed to see the flashes of tattoos she now noticed.  
“Desdemona,” she recoiled at the snakelike fluidity with which her name was said, “won’t you come with me?”  
The feline smile fell naturally on the man’s lips, his eyes enchanting the girl as he bowed and reached out his hand.  
Des stared for a moment, dazed.  
“But-“  
“Ah, ah, ah. Your actions will speak louder than any word possibly could.” He purred.  
Des took a deep breath. She would be ok. Nothing would happen, despite all of the red flags here. She had her phone and she was probably much faster than this guy.  
Once more, her hand reached out as her shoes floated over the cats. Her knuckles were politely kissed.  
“The name is Mr.Dark.” Said the man. “Better known as the illustrated man.”


	3. What’s Done Cannot Be Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We join our favorite protagonist once again. This time, she follows around a strange man by the name of Mr.Dark. One question haunts her mind: is she safe?

There she was, following a strange ringmaster, walking on air and eggshells simultaneously. Her hand remained softly grasped by said ringmaster. The question of where they were going floated delicately upon her lips, but unable to form correctly. Crowds parted evenly to allow the two through.   
Des felt gazes split her flesh like flaming daggers, they traced up and down her spine, along her arm and onto the man in a black patterned dark burgundy waistcoat with tails fluttering behind. They hovered for a moment, then swooped back to the original target, dumbfounded as to why such a normal person would be dragged along by a proper-postured freak.  
“Don’t mind them; just curious, after all.” The purr of Mr.Dark’s smooth voice caressed Des’ ears, cutting through the whispering crowd.  
The swarms of people were sucked away as Dark and Des slipped from the main grounds and into the practice tent.   
In here, various weirdos hung around.   
A knife thrower stood to the side, whipping his blades at a dummy in a gorgeous choreography.  
A lanky, mummy-like human slumped in a chair, a child-sized crack-pot giggling next to him.   
Siamese twins bickered in the corner like immature children even though they looked to be at least 15.   
Towards the left side stood two short poles with a tightrope slung around them. It seemed as though it hadn’t been touched in quite a while.   
“Well,” spoke the elegant man next to Des, “up you go.”  
Des looked at the rope in terror. It couldn’t have been more than 4 feet tall, but so many ailments could befall the girl if she fell.  
Although paralyzed in fear, eyes and expectations nudged Desdemona onwards.   
“I can’t-” she stumbled, wishing at once to be at home. Why did she leave home in the first place? Why did she leave the cozy safety of her room?  
Her memory strained to remember as the man’s lips curled upwards into a crescent moon.  
“Yes, you can. Mr.Cooger, would you be so kind as to help our guest up?” He reassured.  
A big, burly man with a curled red mustache stepped up seemingly out of nowhere to Des.  
She could only take one step back before he had her over his muscular shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Something about this man broke through the panic buzzing through the Girl’s head.  
His eyes.  
Yes, that was it but where had she seen them before?  
“Now, now, be gentle, she’s a fragile thing.” Dark’s dubious voice chided as Cooger placed her down on the top of the pole and let go.   
Des’ eyes flicked down, how far up was she again? This can’t end well.  
What will her parents think if this freak takes her home with a crushed head and simply says ‘Sorry, she fell’? How many life experiences would she miss out on if-no, when- she took a wrong step? Will any of the miserable souls in this tent even try to hold her body as she takes her last, gasping breath?  
The ringmaster would know. He holds the future. He would be the one to speak to her parents. He would have to try to catch her, right? What if he doesn't? What if they all stand by as she desperately hangs onto the floss in front of her now?  
Des’ eyes flicked around from freaks to rope to Dark and back around. Her hands shook as an overwhelming sense of fear clawed through her chest and ripped her internal organs to shreds. Her vision was already restricted, but the tears welling up in her eyes only made things worse as she finally focused on Dark.  
How could she chicken out in front of all of these people and face embarrassment?   
His mischievous smile did all but comfort the panicking victim of this game.   
Just as softly as the first time, he offered his hand up for Desdemona to hold, tattoos and dancing illustrations peeking from his sleeve.  
Her mind flitted for a moment.   
He wouldn’t be offering her help, would he? If he was, she might as well take anything she can before he decides otherwise.   
Palms connected; one with great fear and the other with sure delight and amusement.   
With a deep breath Des raised her lead-like foot to put forward.   
The man next to her was saying comforting words of support but she wasn’t exactly sure what they were. His grip reflected her tight hold. It felt as though that was the only thing keeping Des from crumbling into a mess of nerves.   
The rope wobbled slightly as the foot fell, but did not fail to support the weight imposed on it.   
Finally the man’s words became clear to her.   
“That’s it. One foot after the other.”  
The left foot obeyed in suit, lifting and placing itself forward on the line. More wobbling began. Along with this, Des’ state of mind began wobbling as well. The illustrated man’s face tightened ever so slightly, smile faltering into a disapproving frown.   
“Don’t let yourself slip now.” his regular purrs and well articulated voice flicked unnaturally into a low bass rumble.   
Des did not wish to disappoint. She just wanted to go home. After all of this she planned to politely end the conversation and race to her house, never to look back. With the thought of her warm bed and loving parents her feet stabilized.   
She wanted to go home so badly. She just had to make it across this rope.   
As her speed grew so did the pleased smile on Dark’s face. His hand still supported hers as the two simultaneously reached the end of the line.   
“Perfect.” The man growled. Mr.Cooger joined him, observing Des’ slight figure still perched on the pole awkwardly.  
“Is this what we've been searching for?” Cooger grumbled.  
Mr.Dark nodded fervently and elegantly motioned to her.   
“Well help our special guest down!” He snickered, looking back and forth between the girl and Cooger.   
Butterflies exploded in Des’ stomach as soon as she was lifted from the pole, urging her to take action or crumble into a ball of fear.   
“Sir, I-“  
“Now that that is over with, how do you want to handle that animal in the funhouse?” Cooger interrupted.  
Dark’s eyes snapped to Des’. Her entire face dropped in horror. What a sweet soul? Horrible that this would be her fate.  
“Ah yes. What kind was it again? A cat? Bird? Turtle?” He asked, scanning Des’ face for any sign of special connection to one race or another.  
Indeed, Fear scratched across her face more than it had before at the mention of a certain shelled reptile.  
She couldn’t help but think of Malcom, at home, alone in his tank. What if he got out and was looking for her? What if he missed her so much he was able to remove the top of the tank, walk all the way here and get lost in a fun house? She hadn’t even noticed she had been put down, she was so absorbed in worry.  
“Maybe our new friend could assist in our efforts?” Mr.Dark purred in a silky smooth low voice.  
“Of course!” Des cried, “o-of course…”   
Cooger and Dark shared a knowing look, turned, and began walking in tandem.   
The girl stood there, worrying herself into a hole and, to the illustrated man’s dismay, not following.  
He turned his head and raised a black eyebrow.   
“Aren’t you coming along?” He growled. An edge snuck into his tone once again, spooking Des into leaping forward and following closely behind all the way across the park to the funhouse. Every chance she got, Des tried to open a conversation about leaving, but something always delayed her plans.  
Eyes and laughs were pointed specifically at the awkward group, making the emotional wreck walking behind even more anxious.   
As they approached, the carnie peered at Dark and nodded, who tossed a grin back. Cooger stopped just outside the door. He gave off a feeling of unease which mystified the already terrified Des.   
Mr.Dark, like the gentleman he is, opened the door for Desdemona and smiled.   
“Ladies first.” his mischievous grin chirped.  
With a strange look, a handful of broken, overused courage, and a few steps Des entered the house.   
Just about as soon as she got in a variety of mirrors, puzzles, twirling floors and angry swinging bridges greeted her. The girl looked back for some sort of direction, only to find that she was somehow even deeper in the house than before, door farther away and closed.  
No Dark.   
Des panicked, she raced towards the door, but couldn’t help but get twisted and twirled around, led deeper into the strange place.  
No one was around, and fear was getting the best of her, so she ran as fast as she could, racing through obstacles and around distorted mirrors, ignoring their contents entirely. At this point, the thoughts of her turtle had disappeared completely. 

At this point, even the thoughts of her family didn’t disturb her panicked state of being.

Her thoughts became even more jumbled as the exterior door lost itself behind curves and shaking floors. A scream escaped her tightened throat in frustration.  
Des sat down and attempted to take a deep breath as some warm liquid fell from her eyes.   
Remembering what her therapist told her to do not long ago, she observed her options between gulping sobs.   
Number one: walk further for who knows how long. Continue to become even more lost and eventually exhausted. Food and water were sparing, although thirst would probably be the thing to take her first. It’s unlikely that after this long she would find the exit, or even an opening to the outside.   
Number two: give up. Find a comfy looking piece of unmoving ground and settle in, saving energy, calories and water. The only disadvantage was the requirement of giving up all hope of getting out.   
Option number two, however grim, looked better for Des. So, making her way only a bit further in to a platform of mirrors, Des laid down.  
Her tears slowly dripped onto the cold, hard, metal floor as she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie! Sorry for the super long chapter! Tell me if you like longer chapters though. Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thank you for reading my fan fic! More chapters are to come. Feel free to criticize me, I’m ready for it.


End file.
